Four Loves in Banff
First: a morning fight. I wanted to help dissipate their anger but it didn’t work. It was my way of showing them love, This isn’t confined to them; I like everyone around me to be happy, which is noble and thoroughly foolish in its optimism. But that kind of loving comes at a cost for me, and it takes a caring recognition to know that sometimes they have to do their feelings without my interference.
“This day held love in fighting, in performing, in promising, and in documenting. All of which were done in the shadows of pine trees reaching for the sun on the lee side of mountains brand new by the earth’s terms. ”
Second: a building project. After lugging food, chairs, sunshade, life jackets, and boats to our lakeside perch, I asked my eldest if he wanted to build a dam with rocks, this being one of his favorite activities by the water. I wanted a rest after locating us with all our things and normally would have left him to his own construction devices, but after looking out on this picturesque lake I remembered just how soon he won’t be interested in such trifles and certainly how much he will object to doing them with his mother. On the lake, he showed me the best way to get to the bit of raised earth. Step on this one, he said. And that was his love. Don’t put your weight on the wobbly one, mom, you might get hurt - which is a mirror of what I’ve told him in the past. He asked me to move rocks to the side and pack mud this way and make the dam curve so that the water would flow a certain direction. Years of playing in dirt evidently means a thorough knowledge of hydrology. That he allowed me to join his project and he shepherded me to the build site safely, that was his love. That I recognized a fleeting moment to experience such a thing with him, that was mine.
Third: As we constructed, I heard a series of half-forced laughs coming from the hill above. A copse of lodge pole pines screened the view but a woman with two cameras strapped to her sides stepped sideways and I was intrigued. I re-positioned myself into prime onlooker position and saw the whole party: a woman in a sleek white dress, and a man in a tuxedo, the photographer, and another carefully dressed man and woman. It’s a wedding, said my boy, having joined me in eavesdropping. Are they actually getting married right now? I asked him as if he would know a real wedding by seeing it. I think so, he said, and went back to his rocks. There was a loud pop and a glint of silver from the bottle of champagne, accompanied by laughter. It felt awkward since that seems like a group activity and not just two showing up for the camera but I have overly sensitive radar for such things. I watched as they performed their love for the camera in frame-length scraps. As they posed, I tried to guess which image would end up framed in their hallway.
Fourth: wandering the used-to-be-a-ski town in British Columbia, a photographer and his crew followed a woman and a man in traditional Indian garb. I know embarrassingly little about Indian wedding traditions, only that it is elaborate, colorful, sparkling, and lyrical. The couple embraced on the island between the bus lane and the pedestrian-only side of the street. The gold knots at the bottom of her braid brushing her braceleted wrist. The photographer performed the same dance as the one by the lake; kneeling for the best shot, putting focus on their faces with the bustling street and the mountains layered in the background. They procured a black bicycle and posed arm in arm in front of it, the jeweled fridge of her sari glinting in the sunlight. They spoke with the photographer casually enough it seemed they either knew him or were related to him. Their love was documented by a friend on a bustling street on a holiday weekend, alongside tired parents carrying their tired children, next to people sitting on patios sipping glasses of wine. Love was demonstrated between buses ferrying people to hiking trails and overlooks, in the midst of ice cream cones being consumed and passing lovers eying those children to decide whether they wanted ones of their own.
This day held love in fighting, performing, promising, and documenting. All of which were done in the shadows of pine trees reaching for the sun after a nine-month winter and on the lee side of mountains brand new by the earth’s terms.
Inspired by events in Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada.
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